


not one before another

by meanderingsoul



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Episode: s03e07 Game Set & Murder, Future Fic, Gen, Introspection, Male Friendship, Mentors, Rumors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-13
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-10-27 08:21:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17763203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meanderingsoul/pseuds/meanderingsoul
Summary: By the time it’d been a few days and he finally handed a teary-eyed Hugh Collins his new stripes Jack felt reasonably sure they weren’t both about to be dismissed.





	not one before another

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you preux for letting me send small chunks of this to you out of order and at random times these last couple days so I could whine about them <3

 

Russell Street had been in the habit of sending him green constables they weren’t sure they wanted to keep on for several years now.

Jack wasn’t sure what he had ever done exactly to merit this dubious honor, but he didn’t mind being shadowed in his work or explaining his process. Occasionally the brass sent some additional queries as to someone’s performance his way. Only once had he gone and recommended someone’s dismissal, but that particular lad had a temperament that did not belong in uniform.

Constable Collins had applied to the police academy soon after his 18th birthday, same as Jack himself, and finished with decent marks. He’d spent his probationary period and several months after at another station. There weren’t any black marks in his file. Perhaps this was just a straightforward transfer.

It didn’t take long to find out what the issue was however. The lad seemed gormless.

He could not spot a liar. He stammered when speaking to women and Jack had been forced to explain what _exactly_ the man they’d just arrested had been purchasing from a prostitute.

Even remembering how his former Sergeant had about laughed himself sick at Jack’s reaction to that brothel raid, he knew he hadn’t been _quite_ that clueless.

Despite himself, he took an interest. It was possible Collins was the sort who would stay a constable for a long time, but there was no need to let Russel Street shuffle him off into some smaller station outside the city just yet. He listened with clear curiosity when Jack explained what he was looking for at a scene and why. He took good notes and didn’t have any bad habits for Jack to break him of. And somehow on Jack’s blackest days he wasn’t annoying. That had been enough to get on with for several months.

But things had changed. There were others he’d taken an interest in over the years, but none to the extent of one Hugh Collins. And once the lad had found his footing in the work he’d improved in leaps and bounds.

So during the _third_ conversation about why the brass didn’t feel like taking on the expense of one more senior constable at this time, after the latest young constable had seen fit to _cry about a girl_ in his office, Jack’s patience ran out.

“I will quit right now Deputy-Commissioner.”

The naked shock on the man’s weathered face was kind of rewarding. “You’d better watch your mouth Robinson.”

“No. I won’t. We are desperately trying to recover from the worst police scandal in years, the vilest cover-up I can conceive of, and still this organization persists in promoting relations of relations instead of the men who’ve proved they are actually good at the job.”

“Just because you aren’t getting your way for once isn’t…”

“That system should have died with the war and good riddance to it. You can promote Collins based on his excellent professional performance or I can hand you my resignation today,” Jack interrupted, raising his voice only slightly. “What will it be.”

“I should show you the damn door.”

“I don’t often make a point of it, but I’m your best and we both know it.”

The Deputy Commissioner’s jaw spasmed. Jack watched the twitch impassively. The man hadn’t had this job very long. They both knew why.

Jack had a reputation. And despite how eventful the last year or so had been, it was not a new reputation. He’d always pursued the lines of enquiry others found distasteful. It’d been years since the first time he’d commandeered a case he knew was going to be mishandled; Phryne had only reminded him that he enjoyed it.

He wondered idly, while his superior fumed, whether Phryne knew he’d always had a reputation for being a pain, long before they worked together. Probably not. She picked the oddest topics to avoid prying about.

Sanderson’s fall was the most recent thing in everyone’s mind, but he’d also arrested the former Mayor of Melbourne without forewarning Russel Street. Then-Deputy-Commissioner Sanderson had been supposed to bawl him out for the presumption. George had poured him a drink instead.

_If I’d ever had the slightest idea you would be this much trouble Jack…_

_You could have gotten rid of me years ago George._

_Why would I do a thing like that?_

It had meant a lot at the time. They’d both known the divorce was happening by then, but George had still been willing to back him when it counted. So Jack had thought.

Phryne was all over his reports from the last year or so, as a consultant or informant and occasionally as the genuine private investigator she’d become, but her identity wasn’t anymore unknown to his superiors than the fact that he was in and out of her house at all hours. There was always a certain level of risk or reprimand, but it rarely came up in direct conversation.

And Jack only cared about his reputation when he needed to. As the DI usually in charge of City South he was something of a public figure and he needed the respect and frequently the obedience of the men who worked there. When he couldn’t have either of those things he’d settle for intimidation through professionalism.

Everything else got ignored. Every snide comment about Phryne having made him lose his edge, or that she was bribing him, or even speculation as to the contents of his trousers. Every sideways glance after the divorce, somehow a more indecent thing than the open secret that was the mistress of a Sergeant at City North. Walking into his station the day after arresting the former Chief Commissioner to an impressive variety of judgmental stares and shocked muttering.

Jack just didn’t much care what got whispered behind his back. He tried to greet it all with the same blank expression as if someone had just brought him a needed file. No one ever seemed to have the stomach to repeat whatever it was it to his face.

It wasn’t rewarding for the ones who liked trouble. It infuriated the ones who didn’t like him for being too much of a stickler, for being one of the strikers, for refusing to take bribes like so many others, innocuous and not.

It had always driven Rosie half-mad that he wouldn’t speak up against it when it happened.

But his station ran like clockwork, his cells had the fewest unfortunate incidents in the city, and his case clearance rate spoke for itself. Not to mention how his cases tended to fare in court.

Still. This was by far the riskiest move he’d ever made. He hadn’t really tried to force their hand since 1923, and now it was just him.

“If Russel Street wants to keep sending me green officers to vet for them like they have been the last five years, I could use another Senior Constable around,” he added mildly.

After another long glower his superior grabbed the required papers, signed them roughly, and shoved them in Jack’s direction. “Go finish getting that processed and get out of my sight.”

“Yes sir,” Jack said, but he couldn’t make himself say thank you. He shouldn’t have had to do this at all.

By the time it’d been a few days and he finally handed a teary-eyed Hugh Collins his new stripes Jack felt reasonably sure they weren’t both about to be dismissed.

And as the years went on, he never had cause to regret taking the risk. Not for one moment.

Retying the lad’s tie before the bride arrived in a church that was emptier than it ought to be.

The moment when the Collins' two-day-old firstborn daughter was set in Jack’s arms.

Christmas years later when Hugh's son fell asleep across Jack and Phryne’s legs.

Even later, when Hugh wouldn’t speak to him for nearly six months after Jack had asked and then pleaded with him not to enlist. And after the first ragged letter to reach him about broke his heart.

Even when the transfer offer finally came that was finally too good to pass up, the station coordinator for City Central, senior status as well. It was higher pay and a better fit for the limp Collins was getting used to, though it seemed better by the week.

Jack sat back in his desk chair. He realized suddenly it was nearly twenty years since they’d met.

Hugh’s expression was rueful, but not nervous. He’d been both Sergeant and Lance-Corporal now, and had four kids at home, probably the greater challenge. It’d been a long time since Jack was a source of nervousness. It’d been a long time since he was ‘sir’ outside this station, more often Robinson or Uncle Jack.

“Won’t be the same around here without you Collins,” Jack said warmly. There wasn’t much else needed said. The recommendation was easy to write, though probably unnecessary. Jack still wanted it on the records.

He sat perfectly still for a moment, looking around his office. They’d repainted in here about ten years ago. The glass in his door had given out a while after, during the time he’d been working in two different kinds of offices entirely and hadn’t had enough time for either. His name was on it just the same as it’d always been, even though it wasn’t accurate anymore. Hadn’t been for nearly six years. Jack’s typewriter was new. The handle of his phone was well-worn.

Collins had looked the same at his door frame a minute ago as he always had, at least to his eyes. Same toothy grin, blond hair, and dark uniform jacket. It was all the other lads working here who looked younger than they used to. Jack knew that wasn’t quite true though.

Twenty years. Good Lord.

There was a certain offer he’d turned down flat twice now. It hadn’t felt like he was risking it not coming around again to do so; he knew the promotion was only waiting on him and what the current top brass called his bullheadedness. Perhaps he should actually take it.

It was the right time now, after so long. They’d had a good run of it. Jack didn’t regret a thing.

 

**Author's Note:**

> "The Inspector threatened to resign!" We did not get enough time to react to that in season 3 because _holy shit_. Hugh and Jack have a wonderful relationship, always a bright spot in the show, and Hugh came so far from the golden retriever in episode one.
> 
> Title is from Shakespeare, because I just have to.


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